Day 1

This is the blog of a 3 week trip to Japan.

I'm travelling with young master Edward Fitzgerald (I can call him that because I'm slightly older).

We've been planning this trip for months, and talking about it for even longer ;)

Day 1:

Or day 0 & day 1 really, since the first part of this journey has been an entire day of travel to Tokyo Narita via Amsterdam. I get the impression that a lot of travel blogs leave this bit out because it sucks, but I would like to give an honest representation of these three weeks, as much as possible. So yeah, travelling sucks. I mean it really sucks. Being stuck in a small aluminium and plastic box which occasionally creakes and shakes in order to remind you of your own mortality is naturally an unpleasant experience. But its mostly just the lack of sleep, and the waiting around, and the feeling of clothes stuck to you by your own dry sweat that really makes it suck. I have, however, learnt three lessons from this day of travelling: 1. If the air hostess lady asks you if you would like a drink and you tell her you want coffee while you're flying through turbulence expect to receive a facial expression which can be loosely interpreted as meaning “either you’re a jerk because you’re going to make me pour hot coffee while this plane is shaking, or you’re a jerk because you’re making a shitty joke. In summary; you’re a jerk”; 2. The pilot of your aircraft literally has no conception of how loudly his announcements are replayed over the in flight entertainment. Otherwise he would whisper. Like a mouse; 3. They like cheese in Amsterdam, and windmills.

Before boarding the connecting flight I saw an advertisement with an incredible statistic: of all the 65 year olds that ever lived, two thirds are still live today. Amazing. After a sleepless eleven hour flight (for me at least) we arrived at Tokyo Narita airport. I was hit by that rare sensation where everything feels familiar in all the important ways (it’s an airport like any other), but all the symbols and the announcements make you acutely aware you’re in a very foreign land. We passed through customs and searched for the office to exchange our JR passes. While standing near the ticket office we were approached by a kind looking Japanese lady who answered our unasked question, directing us to the underground JR office. Reserving our seats and collecting our passes from a lady with fingernails embellished with golden circles of glitter we lugged our stuff to the platform. The train was already there, but boarding was impeded by barriers until the appropriate time. Ed told me that over the last 20 years, the average delay of Japanese trains is 18 seconds; that seems almost unbelievable.

The train ride to Tokyo was full of paddy fields and old Japanese houses with tiled roofs. It was also full of the screaming of a French baby (hey I said I was going to be honest). We had been awake for around 25 hours by this point and it was warm and humid. My clothes continued to stick to me uncomfortably.

One hour later we disembarked at Tokyo central station and that’s when things got interesting. First port of call, find a 7/11 or appropriate bank from which to withdraw money. After much aimless wandering we exited the labyrinthine station and found a large SMBC bank. It looked kind of like a commercial bank rather than a high street bank but it was worth a short. Ed watched the luggage while I went inside to inquire about visa transactions. I walked up to the lady working at the front desk and I had barely opened my mouth to speak when I could tell from her concerned expression that she was not exactly fluent in English. Opening a book and turning it to face me she pointed at written instructions to turn left out of the building and try the bank with the blue board outside called Mizuno. I mumbled an 'arigato gozaimasu' and we were on our way again. We entered the Mizuno bank and the scene was hectic, but looked appropriate for our needs. Not wanting to obstruct customers that clearly knew what they were doing we tried peering discreetly at the ATM’s to see if we could spot the visa sign. When we were met without success I asked one of the bank employees for help who promptly turned to her companion and inquired about visa. Her companion looked delighted when she recognised that she could help and ushered Ed and me (with our luggage) into a lift barely capable of containing us. The bank employee directed us to go to the basement floor and turn left to find the post office. They would be able to help, she assured us. After one final redirect from the post office clerk to the ATM we had found our prize. We beheld the simple elegance of this beautiful technology:

Simplez!

Reminding me of an early photo-copier and with buttons and kanji plastered all over, the route to obtaining some Yen was less than clear. After selecting English, however, a cheerful American voice directed us to our goal.

Okay, that’s one problem solved, now to get to the Hostel. It’s in Asakusa, right? There were many routes from Tokyo central to Asakusa, all using many changes, and to make things more complicated, no single route could be entirely traversed using the JR pass alone. After a great deal of further misunderstandings and wrong turns we eventually found our way onto the Yamanote line, walked to the tsukuba express and bought a ticket to Asakusa. The final hurdle was the simple 500m walk to the Hostel. This walk took us about an hour, most of which was spent investigating back streets reached by travelling in the direct opposite direction of the hostel from the station. Things got more desperate when it started to pour down, but other than protecting our documents from the water we didn't much mind the rain, and good humour was maintained.

Ed benefits from the luxury of my photography skills

We reached our hostel around 2pm local time, two hours too early for check-in unfortunately. The extremely friendly and helpful receptionist ‘Ero’, however, gave us our key and we dropped off our luggage and got changed into dry clothes. We decided to burn the remaining 2 hours before check-in investigating the nearby Sensoji Temple. It’s a stunning temple complex. Beautiful and intricate, and very busy indeed. The site seemed to be a large tourist attraction even for the locals, though many were in fact there to pray, partake in the cleansing ritual, or tie wishes to a rack. The throng of people was as much comprised of groups of school girls taking photos of each other, as it was of elderly Japanese citizens praying, and young Japanese and European adults with SLRs slung around their necks. Moving on through the markets set up around the area we purchased some rice crackers and a pork bun. I was feeling woozy from lack of sleep and the energy was enough to tide me over. We eventually returned to the hostel, waited the remaining thirty minutes and, after flipping a coin to determine who would get the top bunk (I got it), collapsed into our respective beds. After two and a half hours of sleep my stomach woke me up. Ed was snoring, but awoke after my less than graceful leap to the floor.

while I get stuck with this rubbish ;)

Time to get some real food! First a shower, another change of clothes, a quick tidy of the room, brush my teeth, and a brief observation of Japanese television, then we headed out in search of our first proper Japanese meal. Using our previously well established knowledge of the back streets, we searched for a suitably authentic looking place for dinner. The back streets are literally littered with drinking holes, and tiny restaurants, as well as hostels, houses, newsagents and just about everything else you could want in such a place. After passing by a few promising options we found a restaurant which was large enough to hold about 12-16 customers, with 4 already inside. The entrance was half obscured with a hanging screen, and the boards outside were entirely in kanji. Nothing about this restaurant said 'foreigner friendly'. This left us feeling some trepidation but this is also exactly why we're here! to drink in the culture. After two minutes umming and aahing I cut our conversation short declaring we either enter or we do not but we are no longer standing around here. To my mild surprise Ed led us inside. We took seats and the waitress kindly informed us that nothing on any of the menus was in English. Excellent! We persevered. ‘We’ll have whatever you recommend’ Ed said. The lady did not seem entirely to understand. After a few lines of conversation the only information I had gleamed was that this was a yakitori restaurant and that Ed was trying to order food from the drinks menu. I was ready to give up but again I was mildly surprised to find Ed steadfast and we were eventually successful in ordering two Asahi beers and 5 skewers of something.

The beers came and Ed and I had found a moment where we were not waiting or problem solving, and we had just enough sleep and comfort to relax and chat about whatever took our fancy. The yakitori arrived and we enjoyed the delicious chicken, duck and pork skewers with our frothy brews before making our way to search for more, different food.

mmmmm...  ramens......

Ed declared a desire for Ramen and we hunted down our next venue. We entered and, after some confusion, realised that the food was purchased by buying tickets from a vending machine and then exchanging them at the counter. Tickets represent different types of ingredients (as well as the ramen base itself). At least I think this is so; we only realised this when a customer pointed at two of the buttons and said something either indecipherable or at least not in English. Thus far everyone has been so helpful and tolerant of this pair of ignorant foreigners!

Well, travelling with someone, anyone, is always stressful and Ed and I have yet to tear each others throats out, even after some difficulties and sleep deprivation. I think this bodes well for the trip ahead. Tune in next week (or tomorrow, even) to find out what happens next on Ed & Khan’s Terrible Travels in the Land of the Rising Sun (catchy, I know) :D thanks for reading, please enjoy the bonus pictures!

Inside the temple complex

a BIG sandal

Five story pagoda

the souvenir markets outside Sensoji temple